


ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 - Day 1: Like dogs and cats

by Ivelia



Series: ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 [1]
Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kemonomimi, M/M, Mentions of cannibalism?, Non-Consensual Kissing, Non-Consensual Touching, ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 (Final Fantasy XIV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-31
Updated: 2021-01-31
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:28:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29111574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ivelia/pseuds/Ivelia
Summary: This is my entry for the Day One of ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 \o/The prompts for this are "Animal / Hunter & Hunted / Sanctuary" so today's protagonists are:“Predator on the loose” Zenos x “reformed, early-retired wolf-dog” WoL, Felt SandeAnimal AU where ordinary humans co-exist with "beastkin", who sport some animal traits like ears and tails, and may have some other signature characteristics (improved hearing, vision, strength, sense of smell...)Don't think about this too much, let's follow the rule of cool \o/
Relationships: Zenos yae Galvus/Warrior of Light (Final Fantasy XIV)
Series: ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2135964
Kudos: 6





	ZenoHika Week Winter 2021 - Day 1: Like dogs and cats

For the first time in forever, Felt wanted to howl, howl to the moon; but all he could muster was a sound halfway between a strangled wail and a cough, the taste of iron filling his mouth. Perhaps it was from an internal injury, or hopefully just from a wound inside his mouth; he couldn’t even tell, as every single part of his body _hurt like hell_ . His short nails raked the dirt of the forest as he gathered a shaky fist to thoughtlessly pound the earth, wanting to release some of his frustration; but the acute _pain_ that blurred his vision reminded him that he probably had something broken in his arm, and that this gesture, just like this whole ordeal, had not been one of his wisest ideas. It took a few minutes of writhing in pain to gather himself enough to try and stand up. As he hobbled along on his way back home, he bitterly recalled how he got himself in this situation.

When he woke up that morning, he didn’t expect that he would end up in such a piteous state. It has been a fairly usual day: after his usual morning physical training, that he insisted was to keep fit rather than to prepare any sort of return to activity, he lazily lounged around, reading a book on advanced woodworking techniques; perhaps later in the afternoon, he’d do a bit of crafting to try and apply what little he understood, not something too complicated; it’s not like a half-dog like him would ever become a valued craftsman. It was enough to kill some time, fix random breakages in the house, and forget about harsh, complicated things. This was how he had spent most of his days since his early retirement from his “adventuring” life. He was grateful to his current master for being willing to support this comfortable, idle lifestyle. As a beastkin with no roots or family, if he had wanted to be independent, he would’ve had to work hard ‘till old age to be able to support himself; even someone as “famous” as him would end up falling on hard times if he stayed idle for too long, once the glory of his god-slaying, realm-saving deeds faded away, but… He wouldn’t -nah, _couldn’t_ \- fight any more. So being able to spend his remaining days with this person, obediently being kept like a docile, oversized lapdog, was good enough for him.

This monotonous peace was broken when the leader of the local militia came for an impromptu visit. The squirrel-featured little guy looked quite flustered, which was unusual; after all, this closed off community was a haven of peace, where the most dangerous thing they had to deal with was probably feline children stuck in trees, or misplaced objects from clueless residents. In this cushy, upscale sanctuary, everyone was living in harmony regardless of species, like in a bucolic Noah’s ark… until now. 

A mysterious series of brutal attacks had left several members of the community dead or in critical state. The hamlet’s authorities had done their utmost to keep the rumours under control -after all, the reason why the wealthy inhabitants settled in this verdant Eden in the middle of nowhere was for peace of mind- but with the growing number of victims, they feared that they would not be able to keep the truth under wraps much longer. In the end, they decided to at least warn whoever in the community fit the general description of victims. They had all been old veterans taking a respite from war or adventuring, scholars of the sword, or mages of surpassing skill; by all means, they should not have been easy pickings, but the growing numbers of wounded in the local clinic -and bodies in the local morgue- were telling another story, and also, telling them that the mostly decorative peace-keeping force would not be able to deal with the issue. Fortunately, searching the list of residents for potential future victims brought up an interesting name: Felt Sande, the vaunted Hero, the “Mad Dog of Light”, was living under the aegis of one of their affluent patrons. Who else here was more qualified than him to solve this issue?

\- “This is why, we really hope that you will be able to assist us in solving this affair, Mr. Hero... Please?” The guard leader was a literal (well, _close enough_ ) rodent, barely reaching the thigh of most people, while his oversized fluffy reddish brown tail shuddered with anxiety. Of course he would not be able to be able to save the day by himself; even if he did find the culprit, they would probably, literally one-hit-K.O. him. Going to petition such an ill-reputed character as the “Darkness’ Bane” for help was already the limit of his tolerance (although, the half-man himself was more… _subdued, tame?_ than the rumours let on? His scarred mouth, from which he could see sharp canines peeking from time to time, still gave him a somewhat sinister appearance). The only person in their whole militia who might have stood a chance had actually been one of the first victims, leaving a bunch of humans, and timid half-beasts to defend the hen house.

Unfortunately for the retired Warrior of Light, his “pitiful puppy pleading look” game was top notch, probably better than his when he was a wee lad. He felt his determination to stay as far as possible from any act of heroism sway as his hesitant face was reflected in the squirrel folk’s large, almost tearful, supplicant eyes. The encouraging smile of his own master as he reassuringly pet his ears sealed his fate. He had been loafing around uselessly for so long, so he felt like had to play his part to protect their peace…

\- “... I’ll see what I can do...” He sighed. After all, even as he was now, he used to fit the description of “an exceedingly good fighter”. He might as well take the initiative, rather than wait for the butcher to come to him.

* * *

His cooperation secured, the head guard was more than happy to share with him the results of their investigation so far. What intrigued him the most was the medical reports from the victims. From the data extracted across all cases, one could infer that there was most likely only one aggressor, based on the hair and fur found on the crime scenes, probably a beastkin, as the wounds were from hand-to-hand combat blows mixed with sharp claw marks -an animal or a monster wouldn’t leave blunt impacts from punches and kicks, and a human would have used a blade rather than claws. 

\- “At least…. This bastard doesn’t attack to eat…” Felt mused. There were precedents for beastkin gone mad biting people to death, he knew this _all too well_ ; and some were even going _further_ in their insanity... and there were rumors of some desperate wretches resorting to eating people for survival, which contributed to the ostracization of carnivorous-type beastkin, but it did not seem to be the case here since the bodies were found _mostly_ whole. It was reassuring and frightening at the same time: it meant that there was a higher chance of surviving (better than if they had been eaten alive, anyway), but this also meant that the frequency of attacks wouldn’t be limited by the size of the monster’s stomach. 

Another interesting fact was that the lesions inflicted by the mysterious perpetrator, while grievous, had been mostly non-lethal by themselves; they had retreated once their opponent had been incapacitated, when they could easily have finished the job if they really wanted to kill someone. The victims that didn’t die in the fight could be rescued before they bled to their death, if someone noticed them.. But unfortunately, the rare ones that were able to talk were strangely silent on the issue, so the investigation had been at a standstill. Looking at their background did not bring any meaningful clue either, as outside of their combat proficiency, there had nothing in common.

\- “The motive… There is none? it doesn’t look like it’s revenge...” The identity of targets, the modus operandi... “It just looks like they’re picking a fight with all the strong guys in town, but it doesn’t make sense”, he distractedly played with his shortened right-ear, lost in thoughts. Wait a minute. “Maybe their true purpose is actually to eliminate anyone that could stand up to them!” Right now, without these experts, and without meaning disrespect to the timid squirrel beastkin guard that was looking up expectantly at him, the whole settlement and its very loaded population would be pretty much defenceless. This individual might actually just be slowly taking out obstacles, one by one, in preparation for a coordinated assault from a more organized armed band. Then they could just ransom off the whole village… And that meant, _that person_ too. He uneasily gripped his collar, finger fiddling with the attached dog tag, hesitating… That person took him in, cared for him in every way… He should at least so the effort to make sure that _absolutely no harm_ would come their way. Even if it meant risking going back… He slowly exhaled, taking a decision:

\- “Take me to the place of the most recent crime scene” 

* * *

The place was a remote corner of the garden of the latest victim’s employer; the poor chap was a human, known in the community for being a famous former coliseum champion, and was enjoying the position of a bodyguard to a wealthy merchant. He’d been found by another employee, half-dead on a patio that probably used to be a harmonious, peaceful corner to enjoy the greenery; but at the moment, it looked like a tornado had passed through. The clean up team had yet to be allowed in, leaving “intact” the strewn pieces of obliterated furniture, deep gashes and traces of impact, and large, conspicuous red blotches all over the place. Right now, that ex-gladiator was still hovering between life and death, and it was unknown whether his reattached hand would still be usable. 

But this was of no concern to Felt. Carefully treading this battleground, he soon found what he was looking for: long strands of blonde hair, that were not from the victim -a burly dark-haired guy- as well as some white, grey and black fur, a combination absent from the roster of servants of this estate. He brought them to his nose, inhaling the faint, musky, decidedly _foreign_ smell, and from it, he could figure out some characteristics of the one they belonged to: he was indeed a beastkin, male, from a predatory species, maybe feline? It seemed that he was in good health, and in his prime. Not an easy chase. He committed that scent to memory, and sniffed the air, slowly, carefully letting part of his instincts take over: _the hunt was on_. The trail would probably be already cold, but at least, he would be able to gather some information about this unknown threat. 

His finely tuned sense of smell, a perk of his canine side, allowed him to easily follow the light, diluted scent out of the city and into the wilderness, until he reached the forest that adorned a nearby mountain. Here, the smell was strangely stronger, in spite of the kaleidoscope of fragrances from the forest that should have drowned it. There were other obvious traces of his quarry’s passage, like flattened vegetation, broken branches, scratched trunks... and they were also very fresh: it was very obviously an intentional trail. Was it a trap? Safety dictated that he should go back and request reinforcements, but he couldn’t silence the excited whisper within that urged him to track down this prey. He couldn’t deny that this was also an unique opportunity to eradicate this threat to his home. He stopped for a moment, reflexively tugging on his collar again as he pondered, and finally opted to forge on, getting deeper in the woods until he reached a small clearing. Without the cover of the trees, he felt the weight of the invisible gaze that had been following him of a while intensify, and decided that they might as well drop the pretence:

\- “Reveal yourself. I know you’re here.” A slow clap came from behind. 

\- “Good job, you found me”. Startled, he turned to see the owner of that velvety but mocking voice. As he had surmised, he was a feline beastkin; the fluffy black and white striped tail swishing behind him, and the white and black tipped round ears sitting atop his golden blond locks identified him as a rare white tiger. But even taking this into account, he was of abnormal proportions; Felt himself was rather tall, but if they were side to side, he would probably not reach this dude’s clavicle. And he was not just all height. As he approached nonchalantly, his refined clothing could not hide his muscular physique. Still, Felt could not help but think that he was probably nothing more than an oversized house cat. Most white tigers were pampered little princesses that were bred and raised for the enjoyment of riches nobles, compared to their more common orange colored brethren. Even the garments he was wearing, visibly crafted from luxurious fabrics and still oddly neat and tidy after running around in the forest, were supporting this theory. With this in mind, he couldn’t help but fractionally relax his tense stance. Yet, the scent on the crime scene was unmistakably his...

\- “Listen, I don’t know how you got the others but I suggest you turn yourself in without fuss-” Reacting on instinct, he dodged a swipe that left one of his sleeves in tatters, blood oozing from clean claw marks. A warning shot. A few steps away, his opponent smiled softly.

\- “I hope you will take this seriously.” Zenos saw Felt switch to a tighter, more guarded stance. Good. It wouldn’t do if he went down too easily due to being unguarded. After all, he finally managed to bait a choice prey. He had a hard time containing himself when he first spotted the wolf-type beastkin: short, unruly black hair, topped by high, perky triangle ears with the right one missing its tip, ice blue eyes, low-key handsome face, if it had not been marred with small cutting scars around the mouth and a perpetual scowl, apparently nondescript stature that hid a well toned, trained body under an air of casual indolence, salt and pepper bushy tail… This description matched perfectly with the information he had received on the retired “Darkness’ Bane”, the “Maw of the End”, the “Mad Dog of Light”, Felt Sande. He had hoped his latest stunts would lead local authorities to organize a search, a hunt. Maybe then, it would have been somewhat entertaining to deal with them all at the same time. But this, this was _way better_. He licked the blood on the tip of his clawed fingers, the peculiar taste sharpening both his senses and his hunger. “I have high expectations of this encounter. Come”.

Felt was somewhat pissed by this condescending attitude, and that didn’t help him contain the familiar beast howling for blood in his ears; but he had no intention to return to his old ways: even without relying on his infamous signature style of “biting his enemies to death, chewing through armor like paper and bone like candy”, he was still a more than competent fighter, and should be able to handle a random, albeit fairly strong, kitten… or so he thought. He fiercely attacked, using his bastard hand-to-hand style forged in the fires of bloody battles, but his foe was able to easily, almost leisurely parry his blows, relying on his superior strength and reach. From the outside, to an inexperienced eye, it might have looked like it was an even battle, but… He took in the still calm, unruffled countenance of his vis-a-vis.

\- (This asshole is toying with me!) With this realisation, it became even harder to ignore and contain the savage part of him that clamored for his opponent’s blood. But even as he fought more savagely under this seeping influence, the other was still able to match his pace, and even to gradually increase the pressure. They fought harder and harder, until Felt realized he was using the strength that literally felled gods, but the other _still would not yield_.

\- “Who… _What_ the fuck are you?” he asked as they momentarily separated. The mysterious man ignored his question.

\- “This is boring. Is this really all you can do?” Zenos was pretty disappointed. That dog was strong but… not as strong as he had expected from his reputation. It was not enough. He needed _more._ And someone that visibly spent this much energy fighting himself, movement dulled by the inertia of their own inner demons, would not be able to offer a sufficient challenge. What a waste. “If this is all you’re willing to show me, then I guess this is time to end this farce.” From then on, the fight turned into a pretty one-sided thrashing. The former hero was barely able to protect his vitals, the reflexes honed from his long experience serving as his only lifeline. This persistence, this unwillingness to just keel over and die was somewhat admirable, but still far from being fun. As he didn’t have a hobby of bullying the weak, and didn’t really care whether the other lived or not, there was no point in him staying here, when there were other potential targets out there. Thinking of this, he straight up turned to leave, sighing.

\- “W-Wait!” He couldn’t let him leave like this! Left alone, this person would continue his attacks, continue to pose a threat to the peaceful life he had finally found for himself. He had worked so hard for this… so hard. Was there even a point in staying human, if he couldn’t even protect what was important to him? His mind blanked for a second, and when he came to, he was rolling on the floor with his opponent, jaws snapping in the air. The tussle ended with the blonde feline -who was after all in better shape and physically stronger- on top, straddling his foe and securely pinning his wrists above his head, while the latter was still trying to process what happened. Did he really just pounce on the other guy to bite him? It was probably his grip that was weakened by the numbness in his wounded arm, allowing the other to fend off his attack; in his wilder days, the ones on the receiving end of that move often ended up _missing a section of their jugular_. He almost retched thinking back on it.

On the other hand, Zenos was ecstatic. This is what he wanted from the beginning! The thrill, the challenge, the danger in this fraction of a second was more than he had felt in their whole fight. It was almost cruel of the retired hero to let him taste _this_ , before dissolving back into a confused mess. In this close, almost ambiguous position, he could feel Felt’s heartbeat, disordered from the excitement of the fight and exhaustion, and also something he didn’t like on his prey: the heavy scent of fear. He frowned, taking in the form of the male writhing under him. This wouldn’t do at all. He waited a bit for him to come back to his senses, while he thought of a way to push this capricious puppy to his limits once again.

Calming down, Felt realized the strange position he was in, captive under an adversary who had attempted to finish him off earlier, but was now eyeing him with a renewed interest akin to ... _hunger_ ? The idea of actually ending up like so many of his own former victims was actually making him fairly uneasy. The status quo persisted for a while, until he finally broke the silence -the guy was strong and _heavy_ , especially since he had probably fractured several of his bones including some ribs _,_ and trying to squirm his way out of under him was having some _embarrassing_ side effects.

\- “Get off me!” His request broke Zenos’ reflection, but instead of complying, he infuriatingly shifted the position of his hips as he moved to gather both of his wrists in one hand, the other now free to poke and trace his opponent’s face.

\- “Why, don’t you think this is a posture suitable for a loser dog?” He chuckled. The canine refused to answer, squirming uncomfortably to avoid the prodding finger, which was not a good idea. “A shame to all predators”. It was truly a waste of potential, for him to play the Goody Two-Shoes nice shepherd dog in that place, his fighting skills, his ferocity rotting away in the boredom of an idle life. “And if you are not a predator, then you are a prey. As the ultimate victor, this gives me the right to eat you, if you are to my tastes”. Felt’s heated brain faulted at that point.

\- (Did he mean eat, or _eat_?) He tried to will away his natural reaction, but none of his instincts seemed to be willing to obey him today; so instead, he prayed that the man on top of him would not notice it, which seemed to work for now. Zenos misinterpreted his panicked look. Was this guy really so impressionable?

\- “Rest assured, I won’t eat you right now; too much of an insult to my palate.” He would rather wait for him to mature to his tastes. Wild meat of this quality was such a delicacy. But how to season it so that it would reveal its true taste? 

As he was pondering, his roaming hand encountered the hard spikes of a leather collar. Somehow, seeing someone else’s mark on ownership on _his_ prey was an eyesore, so... He just ripped it off, earning himself an outraged growl. He originally wanted to throw it far away in the woods, but he noticed that Felt’s eyes were glued to the item, so he pocketed it instead. He doubted that it was so important that he would come after him to get it, which was a pity, but at least he wouldn’t be putting it back on as soon as they separated. Removing that distasteful neck ornament had left an angry red abrasion from the friction, and a small nick where his claw had hastily sectioned the leather clasp, scarlet blood seeping from the broken skin, and he couldn’t help but want to get a taste, his hand maintaining the canine beastkin’s jaw in place while Zenos bend to conscientiously lick whole the area; then, after a cursory wipe using a non-bloodied corner of the other’s clothes, he proceeded to rub his cheeks along his neck and lower jaw, his clawed hand still suppressing Felt’s head movements, although he could still feel him nervously move under him. Now, even if he put on another collar, It would take a while for him to get rid of his scent for a while. _Way better_.

As he sat up to admire his handiwork, he felt _something._ Could it be…?

\- “Is that your tail between your legs?” he mocked. “Pathetic.” Face aflame and furious, and having nothing more to lose, Felt started thrashing around wildly as if to try and throw him off, almost howling:

\- “You bastard!” He was both incensed and mortified, as much by his own physiological reaction as by his enemy’s ridicule. “Kill me, or release me!” Meanwhile, Zenos was quite pleased with the situation.

\- (Still combative I see… Good, _very good._ ) That was an interesting, albeit somewhat excessive, response. It only took a bit of pressure from his free claw close to the affected area to tranquillize movements, the threat clear and loud, and suddenly had an idea: there was _something_ he wanted to try out.

\- “Bad dogs must be disciplined.” He suddenly seized the other’s lips with his, his clawed finger once again sufficient to ensure that his teeth would obediently part for his probing tongue, and that he would be the only one to bite. As the kiss deepened and he skilfully explored every single nook and cranny of Felt’s mouth, he could feel the mass under his hand involuntarily harden, as well as the barely suppressed rage in his trembling limbs intensify. When they finally parted, panting for breath, the face of the smaller male was flush with both anger and repressed lust, his abused, almost lascivious lips contrasting with his furious expression that looked like he wished he could tear him from limb to limb on the spot. The sense of danger and allure emanating from this wounded beast closely replicated what he had felt earlier as he pounced on him, all fangs bared. _This was perfect_ . Infuriating him seemed to be the key to get him to a more _interesting_ disposition, and he enjoyed feeling the heart of the male under him beating in anger rather than abject fear. Such a nicer rhythm to feel under his claws… A pity that he was not in a state to act on his fury right now. But the next time they’d meet, it would be _glorious._

Thinking of this, he regretfully realized that it was about time they separated, _at least for now_. His new favourite pup needed to return to his home to recuperate in preparation for their future encounter. He viciously pinched Felt’s wounded arm, and the agony that radiated from the area caused him to arc violently, gracefully, preventing him from registering that Zenos’s weight was leaving his hips.

\- “You are aware that you cannot hope to defeat me if you keep pretending to be a good little doggy” he released his arm, slowly getting up while Felt was still reeling from the pain. He smiled. “I will come back to visit you when you feel better, so don’t even think of escaping me.” With these words, he disappeared into the forest, leaving Felt to reflect on their meaning.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope this brought you some entertainment \o/


End file.
